You know how sometimes something ridiculous happens to you (or maybe you make the ridiculous thing happen) and you think, "This could only happen to me."
Today, I was making arroz con pollo in the crock pot. The directions said to put the rice in the crock pot, stir it up with a tablespoon of oil and turn it on high while you chop the vegetables. I put the rice and oil in our small crock pot, then chopped an onion, red pepper, green pepper, cayenne pepper, four tomatoes, and four cloves of garlic. (Without cutting myself!) I added a quarter cup of white wine, then started dumping in my vegetables. At which point it became clear that my small crock pot was too small for all of this, plus broth and chicken. So I got out our big crock pot, put it in the sink, and started dumping the contents of the small one into it.
The small crock pot was hot, so I was holding it with pot holders and it kind of slipped into the big crock. And got completely wedged in.
This is the point at which I 1.) begin giving the bottle of wine the side-eye, 2.) think that if I can just get it unstuck before Raj gets home, nobody will ever need to know about this, 3.) take a picture because of course I'm going to tell the internet.
That thing was not budging. The only thing I could think of to get it unstuck would be to run cold water over it, but that wasn't going to work with our entire dinner inside. Fortunately, we happen to have a third medium-size crock pot.
Actually, it's our rice cooker. Before we left DC, Raj's friend's mom had us over for a lesson in Indian cooking. When her husband found out that we didn't have a rice cooker, he was appalled and promised to buy us one as a wedding gift. I have to say, I think this is the Cadillac of rice cookers. It's also a steamer and a slow cooker. When we leave Okinawa, this will be high on the list of items going in our express shipment back to the US since it does so many things.
Anyway, I dumped everything in there, spent quite some time trying to fish out all of the vegetables that were stuck between the two crocks, then added the broth and chicken and got the whole thing cooking. And realized I forgot to buy the frozen peas that were supposed to go in at the end, which will probably be pretty much the least of this dinner's problems.
I did eventually get the crocks unstuck. I washed both and did consider just hiding the evidence and pretending it never happened before beginning to mentally compose this blog post.
Then I decided to press my kitchen luck by making snickerdoodles because we've got new neighbors and I want to take them something and say hello. Cookie dough isn't a risk though. Cookie dough behaves. Except for the way that bits of it sneak into my mouth prior to baking. Why you gotta be so delicious, cookie dough?
The dough is currently chilling in the fridge in the mixer bowl. On another occasion when the same thing was happening, Raj noticed the bowl wasn't in the mixer and started to say, "Where's the..." then started laughing before continuing, "...it's not called the cookie thing." It's not, but it kind of may as well be. I've kneaded dough and whipped cream in there, but probably 90% of my mixer's use is related to cookies. And the dough all fits in the bowl every single time.
I suppose we can't switch to an all cookie diet, no matter how much some of us may like the idea of that plan. So the adventures in cooking continue. But first: wine.
Update: After eating this, I can say that the results aren't really even worth all the chopping, much less the added sturm und drang, so I've removed the link. The snickerdoodles, on the other hand, are delightful as always.